


Like You Want To Win

by Crystalshard



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalshard/pseuds/Crystalshard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tron is the AI that runs the Mark III Jaeger 'Firewall'. Kevin Flynn and Alan Bradley are, temporarily, its pilots. </p><p>Written because the Great Tron <strike>Kaiju</strike> Hivemind latched on to this crossover, and none of us could resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like You Want To Win

"Alan?" 

Alan Bradley, chief engineer of the Jaeger AI Interface project, looked up to see Marshal Walter Gibbs standing at his elbow. Shaking his head to clear it of streams of _if-then-else_ and fuzzy logic, he replied, "Yes, sir?" 

"I think we need to talk. It's about Flynn." 

_That_ was enough to get his attention immediately, and Alan abandoned his workstation to follow the Marshal to one of the gantries overlooking the huge Jaeger they named Firewall. A single repair crew was working on it, orange sparks dripping down its chest as they welded together some bit of armor plating.

"I've been looking at your test scores," Gibbs said without preamble. "You're the closest compatibility match we have for Flynn. Firewall is nearly repaired and ready to go, and we're not getting new pilots for it until they graduate the Academy in three weeks. Flynn is the only pilot we have available until then." 

There were a hundred objections that Alan could have made – he wasn't a fighter, he was an engineer; maybe he didn't want Flynn inside his head – but he chose, "Isn't he on compassionate leave after the incident with Regulator Gold?" 

"He's had two months. The Pan-Pacific Defense Corps can't afford to be any more compassionate than that. We need him, dead wife or not." 

Gibbs fixed his eyes on Firewall, and Alan felt certainty unfold in the back of his mind. "You brought him in last night, didn't you?" 

Gibbs didn't nod, but Alan could read his admission in the slight slump of his shoulders. "He's being briefed now. Bradley, you'll report to the hangar to be suited up at 1400 hours. I want you and Flynn to run through first Drift and tests with Tron as soon as possible." 

It was an order, and Alan tended to obey orders. Argument was pointless. "Yes, sir." 

* * *

Alan had suited up before, enough that he had his own circuit suit and outer shell. _Test pilot_ wasn't quite accurate, but _test engineer_ didn't quite cover it. This, however, would be his first experience of Drift. 

_At least Tron is our AI._

"Hey, man." 

To eyes that didn't know him as well as Alan, Flynn looked as he always did. The black and white battle armor suited him, and he moved comfortably in it. Alan's eyes, however, spotted the dark circles under his eyes, the slightly artificial edge to his smile. "Hey, Kevin." 

What could he say, now that Flynn was going to be inside his head? Words died half-thought, and he returned the smile with another that held just as much awkwardness. 

They stepped forward together into the foot control assemblies, and they locked onto their boots. The hand grips came up, and Alan raised his hands to them – not as smooth as Flynn, but well enough. It wouldn't matter soon, anyway. 

Then they leaned back. 

_**Neural handshake initiated.** _

_Games in the old arcade, before it was destroyed by a kaiju incursion_

_A blonde woman, Lora/Jordan/Lora_

_No, man, no, don't look that deep in my head_

_Sam dragging him/him by the hand in excitement about some adventure or other_

_Hello Tron_

_**Neural handshake strong and holding.** _

"Right hemisphere ready," said Flynn, and Alan could hear a pre-echo of the words in the thoughts running through Flynn's head. _Just do the Zen thing, man,_ Flynn encouraged in their shared mind. _Let your mind be empty._

"Left hemisphere linked and ready," Alan said, and he knew the words because he'd heard them a hundred times, because Flynn and Jordan had known them. 

Under Flynn's determinedly calm mind, he could feel the support of the AI he'd tested time after time. Tron was there, silently waiting, ready to translate thought and motion into the actuators and gears that made the Jaeger move. It was reassuring, and he/they relaxed further into the Drift. 

They each raised one arm, and as Alan's hand came up, he could feel Flynn's matching it as he echoed Flynn. Excitement hummed through Alan as Firewall responded to them, and he felt Flynn's matching glee. 

"They can't keep us down, Jordan," Flynn said absently. 

Alan's shock resonated between them, and Flynn's eyes widened as they stared straight ahead.

"He's chasing the rabbit!" came the faint sound from outside, and Alan couldn't break out, and he couldn't break in, and the Drift was destabilizing . . .

* * *

Later, he thought that Tron must have cushioned him, but he didn't say that to Gibbs. The Marshal's disappointment was more effective than a thousand angry words, and they were reprimanded and told that they were trying again tomorrow. And if necessary, the day after, because he needed them to be ready when the kaiju came. 

"I don't know if I can do this, Lora," Alan said that night, sitting down on their shared bed. 

Lora shuffled closer, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders. "I've seen the Drift readings, Alan. I know you can." 

He leaned shamelessly into the proffered comfort. "I'd rather it was you in the other seat." 

"Kevin's a good man, and a good pilot. He and Jordan took down three kaiju in Regulator Gold. I don't think he'll slip like that again." She made a sympathetic noise again his ear. "He's probably feeling guilty right now for going out of phase like that." 

"Do you think I should go talk to him?" he asked, because by now he didn't need Drift to know what his wife was thinking. 

"Go. Talk. Hit him on the head with a rolled-up newspaper." Her hand pushed gently at his back, and he stood up in response to that soft insistence. Then he leaned down and kissed her, and he could feel her smile through the kiss.

* * *

Alan rapped sharply on the metal door that led to Flynn's quarters. "Kevin?" he called. 

The door creaked open a fraction. "Look, man, I'm . . ." 

"Still awake and beating yourself up over today?" Alan asked. 

If a door could be opened sheepishly, Flynn managed it. "Yeah. C'mon in." 

Flynn closed the door behind him, then went to sit on the bed. Alan opted to sit on the chair beside the tiny table, and he locked eyes steadily with his temporary copilot. 

"I can't help thinking what Jordan would've said," Flynn said, dropping his gaze. "She'd say that I was . . ."

". . . being ridiculous, that there's no shame in finding a replacement to Drift with, she's glad it's me, and get back out there and kill some kaiju for her?" 

Flynn's mouth dropped open as he looked up, nearly as wide-eyed as he'd been earlier. "How did you . . ." 

"I've been inside your head, remember? And she's been in your head. I . . . picked up a few things while we were in Drift." 

Flynn's jaw clenches, and Alan knows with Drift-born certainty that Flynn is jealous of Alan sharing those memories. But then relief sweeps across his open, mobile face, and Alan can almost predict the next words. "Well. Guess you know the worst of me, then." 

"And you know the worst of me," Alan agreed, leaving the giant rabbit in the room untouched. "Are we still friends?" 

"What?" The concept of _not_ being friends is clearly astonishing to Flynn. "Of course we are! Come on, Alan, you think that'll put me off?" 

A smile crept across Alan's face, and he abandoned the chair for a seat on the mattress next to Flynn. "Then I think we're going to be able to do this." 

For a moment, they were in accord so perfect that it was nearly Drift all by itself. Then Flynn leaned in, and Alan found himself with a double armful of sobbing pilot. 

"I know," Alan whispered, over and over as Flynn wept out his loss. "I _know_." 

* * *

The shock reverberated through them both as Firewall's head dropped down and attached to the main body, the giant slowly awakening from slumber beneath them. 

"We're locked," Flynn reported, and they shared a grin. Drift was smoother than Alan could have imagined, and it no longer felt odd being inside Flynn's head. 

They stepped outside, thick cables dropping down from the Chinooks that were due to carry Firewall to the engagement and locking on firmly. 

"Okay, listen closely," Lora said, and Alan's attention snapped to her. Perforce, so did Flynn's. "You're going to have to intercept it inside the Miracle Mile. Razorjaw is coming up Puget Sound fast, and we need you to head it off." 

"Understood," the two men said simultaneously. 

* * *

The splash as Firewall sunk up to its chest in seawater was impressive, Alan thought, and Flynn laughed in the mental space that they shared and offered memories of other landings. Alan pushed them away, focusing on the kaiju. This was no simulation. 

He felt the intent in the Drift just before Flynn lurched forward with his leg, and Alan brought his own forwards hastily to prevent them falling over. Running. _Running_ towards a monster from the deeps. 

"Are you sure this is . . ." _a good idea?_

Flynn grinned. "Probably not." 

Razorjaw roared and raced towards them, and suddenly their world focused down to _kill the kaiju_. It was them versus the monster, and they _would_ win. 

_Your side, Alan._ "Remember, it's all in the wrist." 

Alan curled his fist and, through Tron, so did Firewall. They swung a perfect roundhouse, the creature skidding back a couple of hundred feet as its head ducked under the wave. Flynn was ready for it, and he was reaching out to follow up the attack as it rushed them and . . .

_blue_

Alan blinked dazedly, felt Flynn do the same, and had no time to wonder at how the neural handshake was still operating as their feet were dragged from under them. Firewall fell ungracefully backwards, slamming onto sea-softened sand as the waters swelled overhead. Perhaps the shock of impact was a blessing in disguise, however, as it revived the two dazed pilots. They struggled upright, plasma cannon charging, and stared right down the throat of the kaiju. 

They brought their arm up, releasing the bolt into its mouth, and it howled and surged forward . . .

 _blue_

. . . and the sea was above them again, but the neural handshake was still in operation. They drew their legs back and kicked, lifting the kaiju on the reinforced metal struts of Firewall's legs, and they launched it away from them. There were tiny leaks inside the cabin now, but they paid little attention. Razorjaw was coming back for another round, and . . .

 _blue_

_**black.** _

**Author's Note:**

> This story is continued in kittykat's [The Incident](http://archiveofourown.org/works/885713)


End file.
